


Mending the Wounded

by Rookblonkorules



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alfred is concerned, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fluff, Gen, Protective Bruce, Small Jason fluff, minor hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookblonkorules/pseuds/Rookblonkorules
Summary: It's moments like these-these rare, heartfelt moments-that he longs for the most. After bringing a bruised Jason home from patrol, both Bruce and Alfred take a moment to reflect on the young boy who walked into their lives.





	Mending the Wounded

Alfred is used to wounds. He has to be, considering the nightlife of the man who’s been under his care for the past few decades.

He’s become used to one or the other, or maybe both, of his charges returning the cave with an injury of some sort or the other.

As much as he hates it, it’s become almost normal.

But there are still times that manage to catch him by surprise.

He sighs, taking in the bruised, bloody, but beaming child seated on the couch in front of him. Both knees are scraped and there’s a disturbingly large bruise forming on the boy’s left cheek, the only current evidence of his nightly activities. He’s dressed in pajamas, having changed before leaving the cave, the rule being no costumes allowed in the manor.

It only serves to make the mark on his face stand out all the more starkly against his pale skin. Because such a mark of violence does not belong on a child, Alfred reflects. And a child is exactly what Jason Todd is.

“You should have been there, Alfred!” Jason crows excitedly, oblivious to the old man’s concern, even as Alfred breaks out the First Aid kit and kneels down before him, preparing to deal with the bloodied knees. “We rocked!” The boy swings a fist through the air, no doubt imagining that he’s bringing down some thug or supervillain with his bare hands.

“Of that I have no doubt, Master Jason,” Alfred replies mildly. Jason flinches slightly, a quiet hiss escaping from his clenched teeth as Alfred begins to clean the wound on the knee closest to him, but no other sound escapes.

“And how, pray tell me, Master Jason, did you come to acquire these?” Alfred asks, raising an eyebrow as he glances up at the youth sitting before him.

Jason squirms a little, but he isn’t the one who answers Alfred’s inquiry.

“He tripped,”  Bruce growls, off to the side. The man in question watches the proceedings from his place in the large armchair, a frown visible on his features. “I  _ told _ him he wasn’t supposed to run on the way back to the Batmobile.” He rubs a hand over his face, as if he’s not quite able to believe what happened himself.

“Hmmm, I suppose the lad was far too excited to listen to you properly,” Alfred observes, rather dryly, as he finishes cleaning off the first knee and gently places a Band-Aid over the wound. He moves on to the next one and Jason flashes him a sheepish grin. Alfred raises an eyebrow at him, not quite able to help the surprise he feels at the revelation. 

With everything they do… a minor trip on the pavement is not what he expected tonight’s injuries to be the result of.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Jason protests, rubbing at the bruise on his cheek. “I was dizzy.” He groans, leaning back and flinging his arms over his head, looking more exhausted than he had two seconds ago.

Alfred directs a worried glance towards Bruce who stares back, mouth set grimly in a tight line, something hard shining in his eyes.

“Master Jason… how did you get that bruise?” 

Jason perks up, sitting forward once more. “You should have seen the other guy, Alfred!” He pokes at it with one finger, grimacing, but that does nothing to diminish the almost alarming amount of excitement shining in his eyes.

“The ‘other guy,’ sir?” 

“Yeah.” Jason looks sheepish as he answers Alfred’s inquiry. “It was this big guy.” Jason wrinkles his nose in disgust.... and, Alfred thinks, the boy also looks a bit embarrassed by his own slip up. Then, “Ow!” Jason winces at a sudden sting and pulls his legs back away from Alfred reflexively.

“My apologies, young sir.” Alfred carefully takes Jason’s ankle and repositions his leg so that he can finish cleaning and bandaging it. “I’ll take cares to be more gentle this time around.” 

He finishes bandaging the knee and Jason stretches his leg out experimentally.

“It was Gauvin,” Bruce supplies, tightening his hands into fists.

“Gauvin, sir?” Alfred recognizes the name, belonging to a drug dealer Batman had been collecting evidence on.

Tonight was supposed to be the night Batman and Robin brought him down.

“Yeah… that guy.” Jason waves a hand, flopping against the back of the couch again. “You should see him.”

Alfred is almost afraid to ask. “Oh?”

“Yeah!” Jason seems to light up all over again. “Bruce was  _ all over  _ that guy!” Jason swings a fist through the air for emphasis and grins. “He’s not going to be walking for a long time.” 

Jason looks almost too happy at the victory and Alfred feels a slight twinge of concern.

“Hardly something you should be celebrating, Master Jason,” he reminds him. 

Jason looks confused for a moment. “But he’s one of the bad guys,” he states, voice revealing his conviction, but also betraying something far deeper and more painful. Alfred is reminded of the very little he knows about the boy’s past on the streets, his drug-addict mother. “He  _ hurt  _ people!” Jason’s tiny fists tremble slightly with anger.

It’s a startling change from the enthusiastic youth he had been just moments before, but Alfred can’t say he’s surprised. Jason rarely speaks about his previous life, but Alfred is acutely aware that certain things hit too close to home for the young boy.

This is one of those times.

“Master Jason,” Alfred says, taking care that his voice is as gentle and soothing as it should be, fully intending to explain things to him, but he can’t help but wonder at how to begin. Knowing  Jason’s painful history, the last thing he wants to do is inadvertently make things worse for the boy.

It’s Bruce, however, who speaks next, leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped between his knees. “Jason… getting people like Gauvin off the streets… it’s why we do what we do, but,” his expression tightens slightly, “but taking pleasure in causing pain… that’s  _ not  _ what we do.”

Jason angles his gaze at Bruce, raising his eyebrows with an almost innocent air. “So… you  _ don’t  _ like being Batman?”

“What?” Bruce looks startled and somewhat bewildered. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

Alfred cuts in, before Jason has a chance to make a retort, reaching out to brush a hand against Jason’s bruise, getting a better look at the ugly mark left on his face.

“I’m afraid you may need some ice for this bruise, Master Jason.” 

Jason pulls away from his touch, shrugging off his concern.

“I’ve had worse,” is all he says.

The sad thing is, Alfred knows it’s true.

“That may be so, young sir, but it is certainly no excuse to neglect yourself now,” he scolds, though his reprimand is perhaps not as firm as it should be.

Jason covers the side of his face with a protective hand. “It’s just a bruise,” he says defensively, shrinking back against the couch.

Alfred harrumphs at him, giving the lad a disapproving look as he closes up the First Aid kit. “Very well then,” he says, rising with the First Aid kit in his hand. “Have it your way, Master Jason.” With that, he casts a meaningful glance in Bruce’s direction, before exiting the room and leaving the two of them to their own devices.

Bruce stands almost immediately. “Okay, kiddo, it’s time to get you into bed.”

Jason snaps his attention to Bruce, eyes wide and disappointed. “But…” he begins, voice pleading.

“It’s two in the morning, Jay,” Bruce reminds him. “You don’t get enough sleep, I’ll have to pull you from patrol.” 

Jason frowns at him, but he doesn’t argue. The threat of losing patrol always works on him, but Jason looks more than a little exhausted now. Whatever adrenaline that’s been keeping him going up to this point is fading fast and Bruce knows he needs to get him into bed.

Bruce sighs. He makes a side note that he’s going to have to see to it that he gets Jason home earlier from now on. Jason’s not ready to be staying out so late. Not yet.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get you up to bed.” He pauses, crouching down in front of Jason. “Otherwise Alfred will have my hide come morning.”

Jason smirks at that. “You’d probably deserve it,” he says tiredly.

“Maybe.” Bruce ruffles his hair. “But we can talk about it in the morning, okay?” he asks, gently taking Jason’s arm in order to guide him off the couch.

“Okay.” Jason nods sleepily, agreeing surprising quickly as he slowly climbs to his feet. He yawns and stumbles forward. 

Bruce catches his arm, holding him up and Jason leans against him, mumbling something that Bruce doesn’t quite catch.

Placing a hand on each of Jason’s shoulders, Bruce begins guiding him to the stairs. “I can do it myself,” Jason mumbles, but he doesn’t pull away from Bruce.

They make to the stairs easily enough, but Jason stumbles on the third step, prompting Bruce to scoop him up in his arms, carrying him the rest of the way up. He expects some sort of struggle or at least a protest from him, but he does nothing of the sort, instead resting his head against Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce swallows, feeling his breath catch in his throat and resting his hand on the back of Jason’s head. Moments like these are so rare- Bruce just wants to take the time to savor it, but it’s over all too soon and they’ve reached Jason’s room.

Bruce sets the groggy boy on his feet, hand still on Jason’s shoulder. “Still with me, Jason?”

Jason shoots him a look that most likely would have said “ _ what do you think? _ ” if Jason hadn’t been too tired to make it work. “Uh huh.” Jason nods instead.

“Good.” Bruce says, clapping him gently on the back. “Can’t have you dead on your feet, now can we?”

Jason gives a small smile at that, shaking his head “no.” Bruce allows himself to reciprocate with a rusty smile of his own. He gives Jason’s shoulder a light squeeze. 

“Into bed now,  Jay,” he tells him. 

Jason frowns slightly, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout, but he obeys and Bruce has to smirk inwardly.

If exhaustion is what he needs to get obedience from Jason, then maybe he should continue keeping him out this late. 

Almost immediately, he shakes his head at the idea with a small sigh, even as he feels his lips twitch involuntarily upwards. 

“Bruce?” Jason is already in bed, staring at him from under the covers. Bruce directs his attention back to the boy.

“Yes?”

“Um…” Jason shifts under the covers, maybe looking for the best way to phrase whatever’s on his mind. A moment later and he decides to just dive right in. “Do you think I could meet Superman?”

Bruce tries hard to hide his surprise, but doesn’t quite succeed. “Superman?”

Jason shifts again, uncomfortable, as if he’s not sure if he’s just seriously offended Bruce by asking to meet  _ Superman  _ of all people, and he doesn’t quite meeting Bruce’s eyes when he speaks up again. “Yeah,” he says, speaking slowly. “You just work with him sometimes, so I thought… maybe…” he trails off and focuses on Bruce, looking somewhere between hopeful and resigned.

Bruce smiles, and this time, he allows it to reach his eyes. “I think maybe something can be worked out.”

Jason relaxes, snuggling deeper into his blankets. His expression is close to content, although… if Bruce had to peg an emotion to him it would be… relief? 

“Is he really as cool as everyone says he is?” A grin, small, yet promising some mischief in the near future, slowly spreads over his face.

“Tell you what,” Bruce says, letting himself slowly sink down onto the lower end of Jason’s bed. There’s a deep weariness in his bones, one he hadn’t let himself acknowledge until now, and he sighs softly. “Why don’t you tell me once you see for yourself? That sound like a plan?”

“Yeah,” Jason mumbles, face buried in his pillow and, impulsively, Bruce finds himself reaching out to brush the boy’s hair back from his face.

Startled at his own actions, Bruce nearly draws his hand back, hesitating, but then Jason shifts. His eyes open halfway, before focusing slowly on Burce. “Hey,” he whispers sleepily, looking slightly confused that Bruce is still there.

In that small moment, Bruce allows himself to relax, the tension draining out of his muscles and he smiles back. “Hey.” 

More comfortable now, Bruce reaches over, giving the boy’s hair a gentle tussle.

“You’re still here,” Jason murmurs. It doesn’t feel like a question, not really, yet somehow still comes across as one.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, kiddo.”

And Jason smiles. It’s small and barely noticeable, but still there. “Good.”


End file.
